New York Neo-Classical Ensemble

The Act of Listening/Active Listening

When I first found out I’d be looking at Celia for the workshop, I was quite pleased. I felt like I got the whole “girl-whose-best-friend-is-going-through-a-MAJOR-crisis-and-she’s-really-really-trying-to-be-there-for-her-but-MY-GOD-is-it-hard” thing. I was ready to jump into a lot of love, frustration, joy, and jealousy.

And then I started re-reading the play. I had a lot of moments of “Really? I’m in this scene too? And I don’t say anything? Really, Shakespeare?”. I’ve done a lot of plays where I’m part of a CROWD on stage, listening to someone speak, overhearing, etc. But to be the only other person onstage. During MANY incredibly personal, awkward moments between two people that really like each other? And one of them is dressed as a boy? AND I KNOW HER TRUE IDENTITY? Yeah, nope, never really done that before.

Needless to say, it was a challenge. And Steve definitely didn’t let me off the hook (like, why can’t Celia go and do the washing or something?). In fact, I spent a lot of time in these scenes standing BETWEEN Marc and Grace, watching a very rapid fire tennis match.

I feel like this is the perfect moment to note that I studied at the Meisner Studio at NYU. Which deals a lot with listening and taking things personally. And particularizing moments and things that are said to you, so that you have an emotional response to them. So, like a good student, I went home and tried to particularize how I felt about specific moments between Rosalind and Orlando. I’d go into rehearsal, patting myself on the back that I’d done my homework, and would be totally thrown for a loop. Why? Those bloody actors would change what they were doing! AND they were playing very strong actions, which didn’t go along with what I had particularized. Curse you, Marc and Grace!

Harumph.

This went on for a while. Me trying to PROJECT a reaction, instead of actually having an organic one, not based in something I was actually experiencing, but with something I fantasized about alone in my room (don’t get any ideas). So I decided to (gasp) throw out the homework. I decided to trust my fellow actors. I knew that they were doing great, specific work. And I realized that I was there to support them, not to fight against them. And I decided to trust myself. Hey, I’m an emotional person (some would say too emotional). Hey, I take things personally. Hey, I know Grace and Marc quite well and I care what happens to them. So when Grace is on the verge of tears and Marc is yelling at her, I feel uncomfortable and I get upset. And when it looks like Grace might finally spill the beans about her true identity, and Marc is singing her praises, I get ridiculously happy.

Sometimes I get wrapped up in controlling the situation, and controlling what’s happening on stage. Homework can be good, but actually listening to what is going on, and using what is in front of you is infinitely more interesting. Yes, you might fail, but at least you’ll be honest (And I do thank the gods that I am honest). And the truth is always more specific than something you’ve concocted in your head.

The day after we finished this workshop, I found this quote from Tilda Swinton in New York Magazine about acting:


“I am very interested in a certain aspect of performance, in the idea of trying to affect being unwatched. It’s a constant experiment for me. I’m so allergic to seeing acting onscreen. If one has to be banal and think of a favorite filmmaker, mine is Robert Bresson, who so often looks at people who have never seen themselves onscreen and who of course made a film about a donkey, which I think is the greatest performance ever. The donkey. That’s what one should aspire to be: the donkey.”

Hee Haw.
-Gillian